


That Was Not Okay!

by Mythwine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Possession, Post-Possession, Post-Season/Series 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythwine/pseuds/Mythwine
Summary: The aftermath of Dean's first real experience with possession





	That Was Not Okay!

Dean blinked. And as soon as he realized that he was in control, he scrambled backwards as quickly as he could. _AWAY._ He was never going to touch anyone ever again…his hands caught on something and he was brought up short. 

He took a deep breath, and looked up. 

He was surrounded by angel warding and holy fire, but he looked past that to see Sam. Of course Sam. He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes, and instead looked at his surroundings again. There were cuffs on his hands, with chains bolted to the floor. He…

“Dean?” Sam asked, his voice quiet and timid and shred raw. Oh no. He…he had no idea what Sam had had to go through to pull his lame ass out of the fire this time. What was the cost? “Is that…you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, Sammy.” Dean still couldn’t look at him. His own voice sounded alien now. Because…he’d only ever heard it as Michael’s voice for too long. He had to focus on his breathing. He was breathing too fast. He had to calm down. He could control his breathing…slow deep breaths. 

“That’s it,” Sam said, encouragingly. 

Dean shook his head. “No.”

“He’s…he’s gone, right?” Sam asked worriedly. 

Dean nodded. The space where the archangel had been was burned out of him. He felt really empty inside….

He shook his head again. “No, dammit!”

Sam…hovered. “Can I…can I take down the warding, or…do you still need it?”

Dean jerked at the chain on his wrists. He just pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, though, trying to….he didn’t even know what. Unsee everything he’d done lately?

“I… Sam… I…”

“I know,” Sam said, way too much regret and sympathy in his voice. “I know, Dean.”

Dean finally looked at his brother. Sam’s face was haggard and blotchy, with deep hollows under his eyes. “This is not okay,” Dean informed him. 

Sam just nodded, but he was smiling, starting in on his dopey ‘glad to see you again’ look, and Dean shook his head. “No!” he said again. 

“I’m…I’m just going to put the fire out, okay? And then take down the angel warding, so Cas can come in. Alright?”

Oh God, Cas. He…he couldn’t face Cas right now. He…he remembered Cas telling him, _‘No,’_ and he didn’t listen, and….

“No. No, Sammy, it’s not alright. It’s not going to _be_ alright.”

“I know,” Sam said again. 

“Quit friggin’ telling me you know!” Dean demanded. 

Sam looked helpless. “Okay, Dean. I’ll just…I’ll just put the fire out, okay?”

“Nothing is okay!”

“I know…Uh, I mean, sorry, sorry, just….hang on a minute, okay?” Sam fumbled through an apology as he went to get a fire extinguisher and put out the fire. Dean reflected that their lives involved a lot more starting fires than putting them out. Then his hand reached to wave the flames aside, and he flinched. His whole body shuddered at the muscle memory of being a vessel for an archangel. 

“No!” he said again, shaking the chains. 

And then the fire was out, and Sam was through it, and he was right there. His paws were all over Dean, checking him, making sure he was okay, which was laughable, truly. Michael had healed everything, kept him in prime shape. Dean was probably in better shape physically than he’d been in years, even though he hadn’t slept since….

“Gerrof me,” he mumbled, batting at Sam’s hand. But he’d already buried his face in Sam’s neck and didn’t want to move away. 

Sam grabbed his shoulders and looked at him, nodding. From this close, Dean could see the dried tear tracks on Sam’s face. 

“You’re back now, Dean. It’s going to be…”

“If you say it’s going to be okay, so help me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Sam just smiled and nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

Dean raised his hands. “A little help here?”

Sam stood up and backed away apologetically. “In a minute. Let me take the warding down, let Cas check you. I have to make sure, before we take the cuffs off.”

Dean was tempted to pick them himself. He knew how to get out of a pair of cuffs, and the Enochian letters carved into them shouldn’t have any effect on a regular human like him. But…but…he probably had residual grace in him now, or something, so maybe he wasn’t a regular human any more. He was a used and discarded… He shook his head again. 

Sam was spray painting extra lines through all the wards he’d surrounded this room with. Dean realized that he couldn’t see all of the wards anymore; so much for that residual grace. No more angel vision for him. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. 

Dean found he couldn’t meet his eyes either. Cas did not wait for him to look at him or respond, but immediately began to check him over and make sure he was okay. His check was more invasive than Sam’s, because it went right down to his soul. 

“Hey, I felt that!” Dean said, offended. 

“My apologies. You never seemed to mind before.”

“Do you always go around prodding people’s souls?”

“Only when I have to make sure there are no hidden archangels in them.”

Oh. Well then. “Cas, I… I should have listened to you, man. It was a stupid thing I did, and you warned me, and….”

“Well, we’re all used to you doing stupid things when your brother’s life is on the line. It wasn't a surprise. I…I am glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “Let’s _never_ do that again.”

“All the archangels are dead, now, so, we should be good,” Sam said, with a lopsided smile.

“Are they? ALL of them? Every archangel in every possible rift world?” Dean debated standing up. He probably could. He wasn’t even hurt. But he was still cuffed. He looked at Sam and lifted his wrists hopefully. 

“Oh, yeah, if Cas gave you the all clear we should be good now. Are you…?” It was one of those open-ended questions that could mean anything, but he knew what Sam meant. Are you well enough to be okay to travel, to put this place in the rear view mirror and never come back? Sam wasn’t dumb enough to ask him if he were okay.

“Peachy,” Dean said dryly, and stood up when they’d uncuffed him. He rubbed his wrists. “Now which one of you fine upstanding citizens is going to get me some food?”

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten, but it was way too long. 

***

Perhaps he had overdone it. 

Despite his antics at times, Dean was not an idiot. He knew Sam and Cas were staring at him like they’d brought him back from the dead, and that they were still worried about him, thinking he was fragile as glass. And so Dean did his best to prove to them that he was fine, just fine. He insisted on driving. He chose the place to stop for food by overriding Sam’s suggestion and pulling over at the first place that was likely to use words like “double” or “triple” in their burger descriptions. He ordered too much food, and then ate it all. He flirted with the hostess. And the waitress. And the woman in the booth next to them who had taken her young kids out for lunch. He chewed with his mouth open. He leaned back in his chair. 

He didn’t know why he was acting like this; not really. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to scream “Don’t touch me!” or “Don’t leave me!” at the world. Which was…a moot point. Sam had amply demonstrated that he was never leaving. He hadn’t given up when Dean had actually been a demon. Surely a little stint of being possessed by an evil archangel wouldn’t change anything. And Cas…well, Cas always came back. Even when he couldn’t. Even when he was dead. Even when it cost him literally everything. And he didn’t even bring it up anymore, what he had given up for the Winchesters. He just…did it, as a matter of course. So, yeah…. And yet, Dean couldn’t quite manage to shut out the spike of fear that this would be it, _this_ time would do it, and he’d used up his last get-out-of-jail-free card and one day soon he’d wake up in the bunker alone with no one answering their damn phones. 

But Dean’s acting was all for naught. Sam and Cas had seen him when he first got un-possessed, and they knew he was not okay. Dean could try harder and harder to grin and smile and posture, but…they’d seen him scramble away from their touch while he was still in chains. So he fell back on his only other defense – pushing them away. Sam was easier than Castiel that way. Sam was so very easy to annoy, and when Dean wanted to get under his skin, well…he did. Sam was fed up before they got back to the bunker, and so when Dean insisted on taking the bottle of scotch into the shower with him for some ‘me time,’ Sam just gave him a disgusted, “You do that.” Cas, on the other hand…Cas wouldn’t stop staring at him, half in anguish, and half in wonder, and it was creeping Dean out. Retreating to the shower (longer than usual, maybe, but still all too brief) and then his own room was the only way he could think of to get away from that. 

So, now he was lying on his bed, alone, feeling empty and bereft and hating himself for getting here. For everything he’d done, for every last bad decision and half-formed plan. He had booze and he had music, for the first time in ages it seemed (there had been snatches of music while Michael was running the show, but never of Dean’s choosing, and so…) Not that Metallica’s “The Unforgiven” was helping matters any at the moment. But even though he desperately wanted the oblivion of sleep, he was just lying here wide awake, too wired to even think about falling asleep any time soon. What was that saying, about fools rushing in where angels feared to tread? If only it were true. If only angels really did fear to tread all over everything and everyone. But… he would have to face Sam and Cas eventually, and they would likely want to talk about this. Dean was not looking forward to that. At all.

It had taken Dean an embarrassingly long time to figure it out. Sure, he knew possession wasn’t fun. But he hadn’t really thought about how bad it was, just what it would do to a person. He had always focused on solving problems, so all his focus was on getting the demon out, preventing the demon from doing something deadly while in there, that sort of thing. He never stopped to think… That there was still a person alive in there, helpless to stop the demon riding the meatsuit. Then Meg Masters (the real Meg) had come back with the Witnesses, and thrown it in his face. That had been a wakeup call, sure, but at the time it was just a reason to try to save the human if the demon hadn’t inflicted a deadly wound yet. Or even if it had, like with…with Lisa. He hadn’t thought about the aftermath, though. When Meg first possessed Sam, he’d joked about it afterwards…like it was somehow sexy to have had some demon chick all wrapped up in his head. Dean was the kind of guy who would joke about prison showers…but he wouldn’t have said something like that to a girl who had just been raped. He wasn’t a completely insensitive ass. Shut up, he wasn’t. He didn’t know what had happened between Becky and Sam while she’d had him under her witchy potion, because he’d never asked and he didn’t want to know – so he wasn’t going to joke about that or bring it up. And yet, he’d joked to Sam about Meg, as if he could just laugh off a week long murder spree, attempting to kill Jo and Dean….

He just didn’t get it, back then. The first time someone tried to explain rape to him, his reaction had been more or less, “Well, it’s still sex, right?” Because, sure, he knew you weren’t supposed to force yourself on someone, and that it was a completely dick move. And what would be the fun of it if she weren’t that into it? But…you know, it was sex. And sex was fun, and felt great, and his 21-year-old self didn’t understand that this was trauma people were dealing with. He knew that was the wrong reaction, though, because she’d shut down then, and refused to speak to him about it anymore. So the next time it came up, he just listened, and didn’t offer any wisecracks, and that time, the girl said to him – well, painted a picture of being cornered by a guy, and wanting to scream, but not being able to, and Dean thought of all the nightmares where he couldn’t scream and started to understand why rape wasn’t really about sex. He didn’t realize it stuck with a person, though, because…it wasn’t something that had ever really happened to him. (You can’t rape the willing, and it doesn’t count if you’re roofied.) 

So he was really slow on the uptake with the whole possession thing. He knew he didn’t want to be possessed, of course. He had never wanted to be a vessel for an angel, either. He’d been mind-whammied enough times to know it wasn’t any fun. But from a practical point of view, it wasn’t…well, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to someone – it wasn’t even your fault, what you did while you were possessed. Dean had done enough terrible things that _were_ his fault that he hadn’t even realized there would be guilt about something that was done to you. 

But after watching both Sam and Cas deal with the aftermath of being ridden around by Lucifer…he had finally gotten the point. He had started to realize that possession was the worst, worse that being roofied, and he hated that he only understood that because of the Mark of Cain. Because…that was him. Sure, it was a curse, too, but he couldn’t blame that on someone else. There was no _possession_ to blame. And yet…he hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted to just kill, and kill, and *like* it. He’d been a demon, he knew what it was like to just not care, not feel anything, not have a conscience. But that didn’t mean he knew what it was like to be in his own head, screaming at it all to stop, just stop, while his hands committed those murders. Sam had the memory of killing Kevin with his own hands, and there was nothing Dean could do to take that away, no matter how much he tried to assume the blame himself. And sure, Sam joked about his ‘summer of love’ with Crowley, despite knowing how embarrassed Dean was over his time as a demon, but he couldn’t blame his brother for that – Sam never asked for any details.

Now though…now Dean knew what it was like, too. And he couldn’t face Sam and Cas. He didn’t want to talk to them about this, because at the end of the day what he felt wasn’t anger or guilt. It was shame. He was straight-up ashamed of himself. Mad at himself for ever saying yes (even if it had seemed like the only option for defeating Lucifer and saving Sam’s life at the time). Angry for being too weak to fight off Michael for control. And, though he didn’t want to admit it, he was afraid of ever losing control again. That was probably why he couldn’t sleep.

Or maybe it was just because he’d eaten too much. Yeah, if anyone asked, he was going with that. Dumb Dean overdid it at the buffet and was too uncomfortably full to sleep. Haha, silly Dean, go easy next time. Nothing more to see here. He cranked the volume on his music up and tried not to think about anything, not even the lyrics. 

***

“Listen, fellas…” Dean said the next day over whatever-meal-it-was-when-you-ate-breakfast-in-the-afternoon-and-that-breakfast-consisted-of-reheating-frozen-leftovers.

Sam and Cas both stared at him expectantly. Great. This was going to be awkward and uncomfortable, and he was going to want to run screaming for the hills before they got anywhere. But if he did this on his terms, it would be better. Just gotta rip off the bandage and then keep grinding. He could do that much.  
“Look, I don’t want to talk about this. About any of it. But if you both keep staring at me like I’m made of glass, I might just explode, so let’s get this over with. Yes, I was a terrible idiot for ever saying yes to Michael. I know you hate that decision. I hate that decision. I’m eternally grateful that you both managed to make it right. Possession sucks, and I never want to do that again. So, are we good here?”

“We don’t hate you, Dean. How could we?” Sam said. “It was really difficult having you gone, and I’m just glad you’re back now. I missed you.”

“Some people enjoy being vessels for angels, but I have never heard of anyone being a vessel for an archangel and having it end well. The fact that you and Sam are even still alive at all is something of a miracle,” Cas pointed out helpfully. “Raphael’s vessel, the one we trapped in holy fire – that is more typical of how an archangel leaves a vessel. Lucifer usually burned his out.” 

“I know,” Dean admitted. “And I guess that makes you two miracle workers not to have me be a drooling mess or worse right now.”

“You knew that, and you still…” Sam looked away. Maybe Dean shouldn’t have spent his first day back in control doing everything he could to annoy his brother. Sam looked worn out. 

“Hey…” Dean said, going for soothing, but only managing to hit conciliatory. “I get it, okay? You’re allowed to be mad at me for that. I’m mad at me for that. That’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and that’s coming from a lifetime of doing stupid things. You’re…you’re the one who keeps me from going off the deep end, and you weren’t here. Lucifer took you, and, well, I ran out of options. Doesn’t make it okay, though,” he hastily added.

“Mad at you?” Sam asked. “We’re not even mad at you. Not really. We just…can’t go through that again. You don’t know what I’m like when you’re not here, but…please never do that again.”

Dean nodded, and was quiet. Now was his chance to ask what the cost had been. To find out what lengths Sam and Cas went to to bring him back. The question was…did he want to know? Could he afford that guilt, too, knowing the cost? Or would not knowing be worse?

“What did it…?” he started to ask.

“Nothing we weren’t willing to give,” Sam said quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, that’s comforting. I’m sure there’s nothing there that will come back to bite us,” Dean said.

“Cas, don’t tell him how we did it,” Sam said.

Dean looked at Cas, betrayed. “You’re going to keep that from me?”

“You weren’t here, and it’s over now,” Cas said, by way of explanation. “And we need to make sure this never happens again.”

“Oh, believe me, you don’t need to convince me. I’m as scared straight as they come right now. I got that memo, no more archangels, never say yes to the dress again, I got it. Life as an angel-condom sucks.”

Cas gave him an extremely exasperated look. “That’s not… that’s hardly the point, Dean.”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like Jimmy enjoyed being your meat suit, either. We’re all happier with you being the only one in there,” Dean said, gesturing at Cas. 

“Dean,” Sam said, and Dean shut up for once. “We need you to… I need you to…to let us know that…that you weren’t hoping to go out in the fight. If this is the kind of apology where you say you’re sorry, but you’d do it all again if it meant you could kill Lucifer, please just don’t say anything,” Sam said. 

“Sam, don’t take this the wrong way, but I wouldn’t do that again if it were the only way to save your life. Having been possessed by Michael and watching you die…I know which one is worse.” Which reminded him… “Oh, and, uh, speaking of psycho angels, I guess I owe you another apology for Gadreel. Never again, okay?”

“You’d…let me die?” Sam said skeptically. 

“Not that I wanna, but yeah – turns out there are actually worse things in life.”

“Does this mean you’re done with trying to off yourself at every turn?” Sam was…Sam was angry. Huh. 

“Where’d that come from?” Dean asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. It just seems like every plan you’ve had lately started with, ‘Let’s throw my life away,’ and I can’t keep following you if that’s what the plans are going to be.”

“Cas, what is he talking about? I never…”

“Dean. You do tend to make reckless choices,” Cas agreed with Sam. 

“I make necessary choices. Save the day. That’s part of the job. Hunting things, saving people, the family business – remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do remember. And I will do what I can to save you. But if that means I have to die with you, I will. And if you try to leave me behind and get yourself killed…just…don’t. You won’t like what I do then.”

“Time out.” Dean raised his hands in a T. “Not that I’m keeping track, but the last one in this room who got himself killed was, oh look – you.”

“What?” Sam said.

“Did you forget your little Lucifer-induced resurrection?” Dean asked. 

Sam recoiled from him a bit. “No. Of course not. I don’t see how….”

“I had to look Mom in the eye and admit I’d lost you, saw her face when she realized that you were dead and gone,” Dean said, and the accusation was clear. 

“How is that my fault?” Sam wanted to know.

“It’s not your fault. I’m saying…you died. And…and…what were we talking about?”

“About how Sam wants to make sure you’re not trying to get yourself killed,” Cas said helpfully.

“Who let him referee this fight?” Dean asked.

“Oh, so we’re fighting now? I thought you were just trying to yank my chain again.”

“I…what?”

“Dean, we just wanted to know…what made you say yes to Michael? You had to know it would end badly.” Castiel tried to get the conversation back on track. 

“Alright. You know what? I think I’m about done with this conversation. You guys can do what you want. I’m going to have a drink and go back to enjoying being myself. And if you want to change that, you can get in line, but I’m not in the mood for any of this reflective heart to heart crap, so, we’re done here. It’s not like either of you wanted to talk about being ridden around by Lucifer, so, you know, I don’t see why I gotta talk about my time being Michael’s bitch. It sucked, and now it’s over, and thanks for that. So….we’re done. Capiche?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s always on your terms. Well, Dean, you weren’t here, so I had to call the shots while you were gone. If you think I’m just going to let you take the wheel back…well…things have changed, okay? It’s not the same as before.” 

“Oh yeah? I’m still your older brother and I can still kick your ass. So, no, we’re done.”

“Dean, I really think Sam has a point. And if it comes to it, I am the oldest and I can kick both of your asses, so I think that means you should hear your brother out.”

“So that’s it? I leave, and you’re on Sam’s side now? Alright, I get it, you two can go have a buddy comedy, and I’ll be in my room drinking and ignoring you. Have fun, guys.”

“Dean…” Sam pleaded. “We just want you to be okay. Don’t you get that?”

“If you’re okay, I’m okay. So I’m okay. Okay?”

“Did you know you still have grace in you?” Castiel asked him. 

“What?” Dean halted on his way to the door.

“When an angel is forcibly evicted from a vessel, they tend to leave some grace behind. Gadreel left some in Sam. Lucifer left some in me. And…and Michael left some in you.”

“We…we can get it out,” Sam reassured him.

“You knew about this?” Dean demanded.

“Cas removed Gadreel’s grace from me. So…yeah.” Sam looked sheepish. “Let us make it right for you.”

Dean shuddered. He wanted that grace out of him as soon as possible. He didn’t even care about the argument any more – just…get it gone. “What do I have to do?”

“Not much,” Sam reassured him. “The extraction is just a needle…”

“I hate needles,” Dean griped, but he didn’t even hesitate to follow them, or sit in the chair, or let them put that giant needle in his neck. Because, thank fuck, the grace was gone after they did that. “Archangel grace might come in handy. We should hang onto that,” Dean said with a smile. 

He would be okay. They would be okay. He had to believe it, and so he had to make it so.

***

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Title is my reaction to the ending of the Season 13 finale, naturally. Posted to celebrate the end of Hiatus. First time writing Dean's POV for me. 
> 
> While I'm sure the show will spend plenty of time on the method by which Michael is evicted from Dean's vessel, I wanted to focus on the meaning of possession and loss of autonomy, and how that would impact Dean's relationships with both Sam and Castiel, who have experienced evil archangel possession of their own. No doubt there are questions about other characters (like Mary and Jack and bizarro!Bobby), but that's beyond the scope of this little story. 
> 
> Dean without Sam is a reckless desperate killer. Sam without Dean…well, he’s scary intense, and I’m not sure Castiel (who looked absolutely gutted) is going to be up for reining that in. Bobby never could… I know I was pretty vague on ‘How did they get him back?’ ‘What did Michael do while riding around Dean?’ Just assume it was bad stuff....
> 
> Oh, and Dean is listening to Metallica’s Black Album (1991) to help himself relax.


End file.
